American Tragedy
by Lux Aeterna714
Summary: September 11th, 2001 was meant to be a lazy day for England. It was not meant to be a day of loss and tragedy and unforgivable wasn't supposed to be such a terrible day. But perhaps there was still something good to reach for. (Rated T for slight swearing and a sensitive topic matter)


AN:_** This is based off the idea that the other nation-tans helped out America whether it is the country or him as a person. Also off the idea that America was physically injured due to the attacks, like how they get sick if they're having too much financial trouble. Patriot Day just passed so I figured I'd do this.**_

American Tragedy

While the countries each of them represented may be allies, enemies or whatever, the nation-tans didn't always reflect that relationship. They knew of the politics and the wars but they were people in their own way and they had their own feelings towards each country's spokesperson. While sometimes the state of the countries were present in the nation-tans (the Revolutionary War in example) it wasn't always that way.

This is why, whether or not their bosses like him or had decided to help his country, every nation (if they were around for it) remember what they were doing when they heard about the terrorist attacks in America on September 11th, 2001. Many also remember rushing out the door to go check on the status of the country and the obnoxious blonde who embodied it.

England was writing a report that, in retrospect, he questioned how he had ever found it of importance.

The Englishman was in his study. The report he was working on wasn't very important, but he didn't feel like having hanging over his head for the rest of the week. He was biting at a scone he had made earlier and drinking tea that had now gotten called.

He had been expecting a quiet day. He would finish the paper, watch an episode or two of Doctor Who (he bloody loved the show, stereotype or not) and then go to bed. There was a World Conference in London tomorrow and he was definitely taking the day before off from the world. There was an unspoken rule that the every other country had to bother the one who was hosting the monthly meeting between the nations.

_Maybe I'll just avoid them all. France will be annoying but simple enough to show up and America will be there. _It was a horribly hidden secret that England had developed romantic (and possibly more) feelings for his former charge. Everyone knew. Except the object of the feelings himself. He was either oblivious, an idiot or just a toying jackass. _Probably all three. Honestly, why do I even bother! And Sealand will show up and try to act all grown up and that'll get annoying quite fast and-_

The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts. It was the soft, lullaby-like tone he had set for Canada. He got up from his chair and, while being very confused and only a little irritated, picked up the phone.

"England? Are you there?" Canada's soft whisper came through the speaker. England was going to answer when he heard a bloodcurdling scream and a muffled voice speaking in response to it.

"I'm here Canada. More importantly, where are you and what the bloody hell is going on?"

"America's been hurt."

The blonde mans heart dropped. He felt his breathing stopped and he would swear his heart had actually stopped beating for a few moments. His mind was impossibly calm before flashing into panic. He was panicking and he could feel his vision start to slip out of focus. He heard a scuffle on the other end of the line and the smooth accented voice of his "enemy" France calling his name.

"England? England, are you still there? We're at the hotel you booked and we're taking care of him. He isn't injured enough to die and we have Spain and Japan trying to find out what's happened. He… he called out for you at some point. I think you should come over. We've all gathered in room 942A."

The line hung up and the phone dropped from England's hand and crashed into the ground. He ran out the door, ignoring his jacket, not bothering to change out of his ratty jeans and wrinkled shirt. He ran and ran until he found a cab. While he wasn't proud of it, he didn't regret paying the driver extra to cut through lights.

He got to the hotel in seven minutes. He threw the money at the cabbie and darted into the building. He ran to the elevators. He would have used the stairs but it was on the ninth floor and he couldn't run as fast as the lift would take him.

He slipped out of the doors as soon as he could squeeze through them. He was sprinting down the hall blindly. So blindly in fact that he didn't see the woman in front of him before he ran into her.

"Hu-Hungary!" He stammered, his voice catching and sounding heavy. He felt tears form in the corner of his eyes and he did his best to stop them from falling.

"Oh, England. Come here." She stood up, grabbed his hands and turned around; leading him towards the room the man he loved was in. He almost wished she hadn't.

He didn't know what he had expected but it hadn't been this. It hadn't been so many countries, large and small, all crowded into one room. He didn't expect to see Germany in a shirt covered in what England assumed was America's blood. He could feel himself blacking out again. A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back.

"England-san", Japan started, his already quiet voice brought down to a barely-there murmur reminiscent of Greece, "He's in the conjoining room. We managed to find some painkillers and got him to sleep. We found out what happened."

"Well?" He demanded even though he knew he hardly sounded intimidating.

The nations all looked at each other, an awkward understanding running between their shared glances and body language.

"Sit down."

"They're destroyed? Completely?" He knew he was crying and he knew he sounded like the sobbing mess he was inside. But he didn't care. Not after hearing that. He may not particularly care for the country of America itself or its people but that many innocents dying…. that much destruction and chaos. That much loss. He wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, let alone his friend and the country he loved and cherished so much. The place he called home, that he had fought tooth and nail for. _That he left me for, all those years ago. _He pushed the though away. That didn't matter now.

"So what happened to make him bleed so much?" He gestured to Germany's shirt and the carpet of the room, both of which had blood staining them.

Austria answered him. " His chest was cut. Out of nowhere from what Canada and France said. They rushed him here, obviously there was nothing the hospital could do and they knew it would soon heal itself, and France contacted all of us."

England was about to speak again, ask more questions but Canada came from the room America was asleep in. "He's awake now. If you wanna see him."

England didn't need further prompt. He rushed into the room and he heard the door shut behind him. He stifled a gasp at the sight of his love. America was pale and had a bandage wrapped around his upper chest. Blood had soaked through parts of it but not enough to cause alarm. It wasn't enough to kill America, what had happened. At least not in body. Spirit was another matter.

"How-how are you?" And damn it all, he had started to cry again. Through the tears he saw America give him a weak half smile and beckoned him over with a strained wave of his arm.

"Come here." And England did. He stumbled over to him and was careful not to hurt the already injured man as he wrapped his arms around him.

"Are you okay? I can't even begin to imagine-" He cut himself off, not knowing what to say. What could possibly be said? What could he say that wouldn't seem insincere and trivial in light of the attacks? "What do you need? Or want?"

America sighed before saying "I just want…I want my people to be okay. I wanna be able to protect them and erase this horrible day and save everybody." He moved England back so he could look him in the eyes. The usually energetic country had tearful eyes too and looked more upset than England had ever seen him. "I just wish I could be the hero." England's eyes widened before softening again.

"You are. When others would completely break down, understandably, you manage to stay strong. Being the strong figure your people need right now, despite your own despair. That's pretty heroic of you. To me at least." He gave his own crooked smile and was rewarded by the younger's amused and airy chuckle. England knew the man wouldn't be "fine" or "okay" for a very long time. that the road ahead would be hard and sad and at times would seem impossible. But England would help him. He had to. "You wanna hear something crazy?" America nodded, his downcast eyes lighting up. "I…" _Is this appropriate? Should I say this now, of all times? _"I love you. In a not brotherly or friendly sort of a way."

"The others had a bet going so you should tell them you told me once you get back out there." At England's shocked eyes and dropped jaw, America just nodded. "I knew. I just didn't know what to say. I do know. I love you too England."

"When will you go back home?" The older asked, an idea forming in his mind.

"Not certain but as soon as possible. Probably day after tomorrow. Why?"

"I'm gonna go with you."

They smiled together this time.


End file.
